


Wild Dogs

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Wild Adapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-23
Updated: 2005-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:04:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's dogs that bite that do not show their teeth./Barking dogs don't bite." --Chinese Proverb</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MsCongeniality

 

 

1\. Koh

Let me tell you a story, _the man said to the boy._ Have some tea first. Ginseng for strength, chamomile for serenity; there's sugar if you want. No?

Once upon a time, there was a man who owned a dog. On Mondays and Wednesdays, he petted it and played with it. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he kicked it and shouted at it. On Fridays and Sundays, he ignored it except to feed and water it, and on Saturdays he didn't go near it at all.

At first, it cringed from him, wagging its tail, desperately trying to please him. Later, it snapped and snarled at him, even when he spoke to it gently. Soon parents in the village near by began to threaten to feed their children to it if they didn't behave.

It attacked him one day, of course. He died of blood poisoning from the wounds, and the dog had to be put down. _The man sipped his tea and closed his eyes, evidently savoring the taste, before he continued._ No one could go near it, so they poisoned its water.

A sad story, don't you think, Kubota-kun? Very sad.

_"Mmm," said the boy. His untouched teacup stares up from the counter, dark and round as an eye._

I heard that after the man fell, the dog crept up to him and curled 'round the body to keep him warm. It snarled whenever anyone else tried to come near. The people who discovered them had to throw stones to scare it off. This was before anyone realized what had happened, of course, or they would have just killed it then.

But that's only what people said afterward, and maybe none of it except the deaths was true.

2\. Milagro

I go to the Chinaman because there's no one else. He knows it, too, hiwi baboy, with his sly glance and his empty smile. I pay in cash and promises, too much, but he don't like girls. Can't tell if he likes boys, neither; me, I wouldn't follow him in a dark alley, or trust him with a dog. The mama-sans, they call him for all the girls. For their pets, they call someone with a license.

And after all that I gotta pay more. He can't help me hisself, he says, but he knows a guy.

Turns out he knows two. I meet them near Yokohama Station. Commuter bar: stainless steel and industrial lighting; half-drunk salarymen too afraid to go to Kantabei Dori -- but they don't want to go home neither. When they finally pick up girls, if they finally pick up girls, they'll tip lousy, skint sonsabitches.

I see Koh's boy the moment he walks in, and not just 'cause he's a good ten years younger than the salarymen and not wearing no suit. He's a great big hulking boy, not fat but tall, with hunched shoulders, and he moves too slow and blinks too little. He's a little clumsy, like he's sloshing around inside a skin he don't expect to fit; so clumsy you can almost miss how pretty he is.

The other one, he's cute, if you like Chihuahuas. Small yappy dog. Rooster hair and eyelashes like a girl's.

They see me, too. Slide into the booth across of me. The smaller one starts fiddling with a matchbook.

"Miragoro-san," the pretty one says. He says it careful, but it's the same way everyone here messes up my name. I tell him to just call me Mira.

"I'm Kubota Makoto and this is Tokito Minoru." Tokito Minoru mumbles something without looking up from the matchbox. He's striking the matches one by one and dropping them into the ashtray to watch them burn down. Any minute now he's gonna set his glove on fire.

"Koh tells us you're trying to find someone," Kubota tells me. The little flames reflect in his glasses and the distraction makes me crazy. I want to slap Tokito's hands down.

"My friend," I begin. "She's been missing for two days."

Tokito looks up for the first time. "Maybe she just don't wanna see you."

"What the fuck do you know about it?" I snap. He drops a match like he's really surprised.

Kubota smiles gently. "Tokito knows no tact."

"Tokito was paying attention?"

I swear, the hair on his head bristles like the ruff on a dog's neck. Kubota pats his arm to settle him down and prods me to continue, still with that same mild smile. "Mira-san?"

I take a deep breath. "She's my friend, mi hermana -- like my sister. We knew each other -- we knew each other back in Manila, before. We look out for each other. She wouldn't disappear without telling me." We have to look out for each other. There's no one else to look out for us here.

"What's Manila?" Tokito asks, like he can't see why it matters.

"You _stupid_? I got to explain the facts of life to you? _Fine._ You're in Yokohama Chinatown, boy. That means the dark skin you see around, that belongs to Thais and Filipinas like me and mi hermana, and there's way more of us than Chinese here. You can't pay Chinese enough to do what we do. Japs neither. You're not hungry enough."

He blinks, trying to work this out. "Like sex?"

I slam my hands on the table. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"Like sex, Toki-kun," Kubota says patiently. "The gangs bring them in on tourist visas to work the brothels and host clubs. The girls get paid less than Japanese girls, but if they complain the gangs turn them in for overstaying their visas, if they're feeling generous, or kill them, if they're not. The girls send the money back to their home countries, where the yen's hard currency. Good rate of exchange."

"Oh." Tokito absorbs this, then straightens up, abandoning his damn matches. "So that's why you're talking to us instead of the cops?"

He's _listening_. Nobody in this place listens. I spit out words before I can think. "The cops? They wouldn't even bother to look before they put me on a plane. One more bar girl, one less, they don't care." Rage shakes through me, but it's like a trapped animal, like me; it has nowhere to go. I close my eyes and make myself breathe deep and slow. I miss home all the time, deep in my bones, which always ache here in this cold country. Home is warmth and light and children smiling; cats and dogs running in and out of stores, parakeets and doves singing in the bright green leaves. Home is no money ever and not enough food, which is why I am here in this place where smiles die and coke highs are the closest you can get to happiness. This cold place, with nothing living but pigeons and roaches and rats.

"Mira-san." Kubota raps on the table lightly to catch my attention. I wonder how many times he's called my name. "What else can you tell us about your friend? Did she have trouble with a boyfriend? Employer? Clients?"

"Her boyfriend died two weeks ago. He was a dealer for the Tohjoh gang." I watch them closely. "Last I heard he was looking for this mystery drug, WA, Wild Adapter."

\-- And that's why _they're_ talking to _me_.

"Somebody was dealing WA in Tohjoh territory, and it wasn't Tohjoh dealers," I say. "Or if it was--I guess somebody thought it was--they weren't paying the bosses their cut."

"Your friend knows about WA," Kubota says. There's no change in his voice, but I know he's going to take my money, and not even that much of it, for the chance to find Concepción. I seen enough junkies looking to score a fix.

I shrug. "Don't know. Don't care. But I think she ran 'cause she was scared Tohjoh thought she did."

3\. Tokito

We're looking for her friend in Tsurumi when Mira-san calls. Tsurumi's boring. Nothing to do but pachinko parlors, and the games aren't even that good. And strip clubs and sex shops, if you're into that, which Kubo-chan says a lot of people are.

"'Lo? Yes? Mira-san." He puts on his goofy smile even though she can't see it. I scuff along, kicking at pebbles. It's a waste of time -- not smiling over the phone, Kubo-chan's already explained how it changes your voice and how people can hear that even if they can't see you, but smiling for Mira-san. She isn't like Saori-chan, dreaming of a hero. She just wants her friend back.

Even if she does look at Kubo-chan too much.

"We have a promising lead -- ah? Yes. Yes. I see." He snaps the phone shut and stares off into the distance. "What?" I say. "What? What?" but he just hums beneath his breath, the way he does when he's thinking hard.

"C'mon," he says, and lopes off back to the train station. I have to scurry after him even though it looks like he's hardly moving at all. He does that on purpose because he likes hearing me call after him. I'm not stupid. I know. I only call after him because I want to.

And if I keep saying his name, there's no chance I'll forget it.

"Tell me," Kubo-chan says over his shoulder, "why would Mira-san call us off?"

I roll my eyes. "If she found her friend, duh."

Kubo-chan smiles a lot, but he only smiles like _that_ for me.

*

Mira-san and her friend work at this place in Chinatown called The Kitty Club. It's locked up when we get there, so we go round back. That's locked up, too, but there are fewer people to see us break in.

I shift from foot to foot as Kubo-chan works at the lock, and then I realize what's getting to me. Kubo-chan looks up like I said something, even though I didn't. I didn't even breathe hard. I know better than that.

I follow the smell to the dumpster, and Kubo-chan follows me. I have to stretch to lift the cover, but it's not that hard to pull off, not with my right hand anyway. I tug the body over and the blood-smell surges, strong enough that even Kubo-chan gags. He usually can't smell anything, that guy. I'm always telling him he'd do better if he laid off the cigarettes.

"Tohjoh bully-boy," I say. "But who did him?"

"Nope." Kubo-chan heaves the cover back on the dumpster and dusts his hands off on his jeans. "Izumo. He used to work for my old boss."

I try to work this out. "I thought you told me the Izumo and the Tohjoh were enemies."

"Yeah." He gets back to work picking the lock.

"So the Tohjoh offed him for sniffing around their girl?"

"Mmm," he says, "maybe," which means no. He cracks open the lock and eases open the door. I lead because I can smell Mira-san's perfume, but soon enough we can both hear them. They're arguing, I can tell even before the words come clear.

"-- out, home, I want to go home, Miracita, please let's go back to Manila, let's go --"

"Concepción--Conchita, mijita, calm down, explain to me what's --"

"-- they're going to kill me, they're going to kill me, they're going to _kill me_ \--" and she sniffs like she can smell Kubo-chan's cigarette reek and whirls and stares right at us hidden in the dark.

"Hey," Kubo-chan says very softly. "Hey." It's the first thing I remember, that voice. He uses it on strange dogs and suspicious cats, too.

He nudges me in the back and I move forward very slowly with my hands up to show no weapons.

"We're friends," Kubo-chan says in the soothing voice. "Ask Mira-san. Right, Mira-san?"

"Yeah," Mira-san says skeptically. "I guess."

The other girl's eyes are dark and panicked. "Not Izumo? Not Tohjoh?"

"Why would we be?" Kubo-chan asks. "Do you have something they want?"

She swallows hard, darting glances all around, looking for an escape.

"You'd better say," Mira-san tells her. Her tone is almost bored, but I can smell the fear on her and her friend knows her better than I do.

"Tanaka -- my boyfriend in Tohjoh, Tanaka -- I was trading information on him to the Izumo --"

Mira-san curses loud and long in her native language. The other girl flinches. "But they promised -- they were going to find a family registry for me --"

Mira-san slaps her. "Don't fucking lie to me, Conchita! They promised you fucking _coke_ , didn't they?"

The girl backs away from her, wringing her hands. Kubo-chan inhales sharply behind me and my head almost jerks to track him, but I keep watching the two girls instead. Danger is stringing my nerves tight, and it has to be one of them, because Kubo-chan's no danger to me.

"Look," I say, "look, can everybody _just calm down_ \--"

"No," the girl says, "nonononono --"

I reach out for her and she freaks and the world's flipped upside down and turned dark and airless and pain explodes in my head. I grunt and try to get up. The girl is leaping for me and her gloves are shredding, her claws are coming through them, and there's screaming ringing through my head, screaming, screaming, and then a gunshot echoing inside my ears like screaming that will never stop.

4\. Mira

\-- And I see Kubota _move._ He moves like a cat, I wanna say, like some kind of animal, some kind of monster or demon; for the first time, he fits inside his smooth skin and looks out his pretty eyes. He is so graceful and so fast that it's all over before I even realize I want to scream, and that's the first thing I do realize, that I wanna scream, like the ache in my throat and the fear prickling my skin and the weakness turning my bones to water all know better than my brain does, than my eyes and ears and nose do, because I am terrified, so terrified, even before I realize Concepción is dead.

 _"--CHAN!"_ Tokito is shouting. His voice pounds in my ears like blood. _"KUBO-CHAN!"_

Concepción is on the floor. Her chest is red and wet and not moving. There's a darkness bending over her; it seeps away from her, and "Sorry," Kubota's voice says from the middle of it. I kneel by Concepción and reach out to the wet spot on her chest.

Fingers close too tight on my wrist. "We don't know how WA works," Kubota says, pulling me back. I can't tell where he's put the gun. "You've got an open cut and it could be infectious."

He sounds perfectly calm and perfectly reasonable and the worst part of it is that he's not even angry anymore.

Concepción, see -- Concepción would scream or growl or try to claw his eyes out. ( _Claws_ , I think, and shudder.) Concepción is like that.

Me, I am like someone who wants to live. I decided that much a long time ago.

I nod and pull back my hand and stand, a little shaky but not shaky enough to need any help. And then I follow the two of them out of the dark into a cold Yokohama evening, lavender-grey with pollution and storm clouds. They don't run. Tokito thrusts his head forward like a dog scenting prey and Kubota has his head cocked like he's waiting for a rustle to jump. They carry on whole conversations, the two of them, with barely a glance and without a single word, and I trail behind them, tame and dumb and holding my wrist like it's injured, like if I press my skin hard enough, I can stop feeling the firm cool grip of Kubota's fingers. I am thinking he said sorry to Tokito, not to me, because Tokito is the only thing that's real to him. I am thinking about Concepción's body that I am leaving behind on the floor, like a pet run over in the street. I am thinking of Concepción's tenth birthday party and the cake with blue candles and how wide and bright she smiled.

We come out into the dregs of sunset with snow beginning to fall.

They pause and their shoulders relax, almost as one. I can't tell why it's safe enough to stop here, when it wasn't inside; but it is. They are wild animals and they know.

Kubota sounds almost kindly when he speaks. "Go home, Mira-san. Go home and wait for the Izumo and tell them you don't know anything."

"I don't know anything," I remind him.

"Then it shouldn't be hard to convince them."

Tokito is looking back and forth between us like a kid watching his parents argue. He scratches his head and opens his mouth and then closes it again and frowns.

Bitterness rises up in me like a curse. "Just you wait," I tell him. "He'll kill you, too."

"No, Mira-san." Kubota wraps an arm around Tokito, who leans into him without thinking, like a plant reaching for the sun, still staring at me with big dumb eyes. Kubota rubs his cheek against Tokito's hair and smiles very gently. "No, Miragoro-san. He'll kill me first."

"Hey!" Tokito sputters in outrage, turning to argue with him. "Kubo-chan!"

I leave them there. They let me go; neither of them is watching me anymore.

I know he was telling the truth, that fucker. As if it's any consolation, when he'll die happy about it.

5\. Koh

I take the steaming kettle off the burner and pour the tea in two mismatched China cups. Kubota leans an elbow on the counter, watching me; over his shoulder, through the shop window, I can see Tokito lounging outside, forlorn as a dog tied to a parking hydrant, waiting for his owner to retrieve him.

As always, Kubota waits so patiently while I sip that I could almost fail to notice he doesn't drink. It's cruel of me to tease him; to fail to offer a can of coffee, a sealed bottle of tea. I wonder if he eats apples or bread, or if his food, too, must come factory-sealed in tamper-proof packets.

"So you didn't get paid," I say, when he's finished his tale. "I am sorry."

He shrugs. "Eh." He's half-turned from me, watching his stray kicking at something on the sidewalk. "I do wonder, though ..."

"Yes?"

He smiles at me, amiably, like an old man telling a joke. "I do wonder how the Izumo found out where Mira-san's friend was hiding."

I set my tea cup down. "It is a mystery."

His attention has wandered back to Tokito. "They've been looking for WA, too, I s'pose. It's cutting into their territory."

"We don't know who the girl may have called, in addition to Mira-san," I point out.

"Ahh. She said no one."

"But clearly ..." I pause delicately, not needing to finish.

"Mmmm," Kubota says neutrally: maybe yes, maybe no. "Well. Thank you for the tea."

"Please stop by more often," I say. "I miss our talks."

I watch him shamble out the door. He drapes an arm around Tokito's shoulders and ruffles his hair. Tokito bats his hand away with his head, like a cat knocking off an unwanted touch, but they walk down the street together so close their hips bump with every other step.

I don't take my hand off the gun beneath the counter until they're lost in the crowd and then, on second thought, I slip it in my pocket before I go up front to flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN on my shop's door. But, for now at least, he doesn't come back.

 


End file.
